


In which Sirius makes a winter solstice wish

by redpangur



Series: In which Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are in love [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpangur/pseuds/redpangur
Summary: Sirius was with the Potters for good that Christmas. They had invited him to stay for the whole break, so instead of the obligatory days of slamming doors at Grimmauld Place before he escaped, he got to travel with James by Floo powder from the Hog’s Head right into the Potters’ living room.~~~~~I'm so, so happy that I actually accomplished my goal of a Christmas-y chapter for the holidays?! Please enjoy these little fics that I wrote obsessively instead of, I dunno, resting? Working on all the other chapters I have half finished?As usual, these are pretty much one-shots, so no need to read the other parts of the series to read these.





	1. In which Sirius makes his wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief, mild homophobia

Sirius was with the Potters for good that Christmas. They had invited him to stay for the whole break, so instead of the obligatory days of slamming doors at Grimmauld Place before he escaped, he got to travel with James by Floo powder from the Hog’s Head right into the Potters’ living room. Mr. Potter hugged him like always, Mrs. Potter adding a friendly pat on the shoulder while she levitated a wreath, trying to decide where to put it, and Sirius thought that this was more than worth the Howler his mom had sent yesterday. 

The Potters didn’t have much extended family, so they always invited neighbors over to celebrate Christmas. This year their neighbor’s Wiccan grandmother was visiting, which meant that they were also celebrating the solstice and that everything was a lot more traditional. Mrs. Elsie tottered around the Potter house putting sprigs of holly and mistletoe over all the thresholds, they had enchanted wassail instead of eggnog, and they all had to go out and find a big tree to harvest so they could burn a Yule log on the shortest day of the year. Rituals always made Sirius feel a bit dodgy—reminded him of high mass with Regulus enthusiastically muttering all the words and his grandfather nodding along when they got to _sine magicae malum_ —but he thought these were ok, especially after he realized that the wassail was alcoholic. 

Peter and Remus both had to be home for Christmas, but after they sent owls to their parents about how they were also celebrating the solstice (“Tell ‘em it’ll be educational,” James had suggested, mouth full of cookie, as his mom wrote the letters at the kitchen counter), Peter at least was able to come for the 21st and 22nd. There was more than one thing to be excited about: not only was there going to be a big solstice celebration at the Potters’ house, but they were also all taking a portkey late that night to a nearby ruin where enchanted suits of armor paraded at midnight every solstice and, for some reason, ran drills on spring bank holiday. Things were more fun when Peter arrived—they got to show him James’ room and the tree where they’d carved “Mar 4 Life” (it was meant to be “Marauders,” but it turned out that carving trees was a lot of work) and the haunted hot water heater in the basement—but they also got in a lot more trouble. They’d been pretty relaxed when it was just the two of them, spending lazy afternoons playing Exploding Snap and making impractical plans for the treehouse they wanted to build, but Peter always spurred them on, looking at them like they were kings when they came up with increasingly daring plans to make things more exciting. After lunch on the first day they got into a mini trench war when they were supposed to be washing dishes, sending jets of water at each other from their wands and then ducking behind the counter, which was great until they broke Mr. Potter’s heirloom platter. They all apologized, and Mr. Potter tried to act like he didn’t mind that you could still see a hairline crack after his wife’s skillful Reparo, but Sirius got the familiar sinking feeling that he was going to wear out his welcome, that the Potters were going to kick him out and he was going to spend Christmas eating veal off the Black family china while his mother iced him out. Later, he overheard Mrs. Elsie tell James’ parents that he couldn’t help it: “After all, the dogstar usually heralds fever and pestilence. We’re getting off easy.” It oddly made him feel better.

That night was the solstice night, and they all had to wait to eat until after Mrs. Elsie directed a whole ceremony around a cauldron in the garden, everyone marching in stiff circles in the cold while she invoked the Moon Queen. Finally, she conjured a magical fire and declared the moon captured, which meant to Sirius that it was time for dinner. They ate on a table that someone had magically stretched to reach from the dining room all the way through the hallway to the Christmas tree, and the meal itself rivaled a Great Hall feast. Even the neighbors who were going to be gone for Christmas proper had come, and they’d all brought something. After more shepherd’s pie and lamb stew and fritters than Sirius thought possible, they passed around individual Christmas puddings in little bowls. Mrs. Elsie advised them that if they were careful to stir them clockwise, never counter, they could make a wish. Sirius stirred and looked around him, at the massive wooden table covered in holly and half-eaten casseroles and bread crusts, at James laughing into Peter’s shoulder, at the fight going on down-table about the need for goblin representation at the Ministry instead of about the encroachment of Squib acceptance, and he couldn’t think of what to wish for. Then he took a warm chocolatey bite and wished for Remus Lupin.

 

~~~

“The thing is—the thing is that he’s so boring he balances us out.” 

All three of them were laying on their backs in the semidarkness, tipsy on wassail, staring at the constellations that drifted in real time across James’ bedroom ceiling. 

“I _know_ , Sirius. You won’t shut up about it,” James groaned from beside him, hitting him dully on the thigh.

“He would’ve reparo-ed that plate thing before your parents even saw, so good they wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Better than my mom?” He made a dismissive noise. “She’s the best at mending spells; Dad always says so.”

“She did seem very good,” Peter volunteered.

“Did you see him fix that teacup I broke in Transfiguration? We turned it into a stork no problem after that, even though McGonagall said it’d fall to pieces if we tried with a broken cup.” James made a gagging sound.

“We get it; you’re in _love_ —can we talk about literally anything else?”

“I’m not in love,” Sirius said huffily.

“Yeah,” Peter chimed in, “he’s not _gay_.” Part of Sirius felt grateful that he’d come to his defense, and part of him didn’t. James ruffled his hair fondly.

“Course not. His first detention was for snogging in the broom closet.”

“I’m just _saying_ that it’s lame without him; that’s all.”

“I know, babe. For the last hour. On repeat.”

Sirius sulked while Peter and James chattered about the enchanted armor they were going to see that night. The Potters went every year, but Peter had never been. Sirius hadn’t either, and he’d been looking forward to it all day, but just then the prospect of going back out in the cold while Peter and James pratted about just made him want to go to bed. He was tired of them, tired of solstice. At least he was, until James said:

“You know, we _could_ just kidnap Moony via Floo powder.” Sirius sat up, suddenly feeling sharp.

“You think—is his house even on the network? His dad works for the Ministry, so maybe they’d want it private.”

“Then it _should_ be on the network,” Peter said importantly. “For Ministry business.”

“So,” Sirius said emphatically, rubbing his hands together. “What’s the plan, lads?”

 

~~~

They ended up taking the rather unsexy approach of telling the Potters they were going to pop over to the Lupins to ask permission for Remus to come see the armor parade, just in case their owl got lost—that last part was a really inspired touch from James that made it all seem very respectful. Mrs. Potter raised her eyebrows over her tiny glass of sherry, but her husband just indulgently waved them along. Which is how three of the Marauders found themselves standing, unannounced and covered in soot, in what was presumably the Lupins’ cramped living room. They heard voices in the next room, and James leaned toward his best friend.

“Who’s doing the talking? I’m doing the talking, right?” he whispered to Sirius.

“I could—” Peter began.

“Shh.”

“You’re doing the talking,” Sirius agreed. He felt like he was still a bit off from the wassail—James was going to be the one with the magic touch tonight. 

The room had a low, beamed ceiling and two tottering couches that looked much too formal and fragile to actually sit on. They skirted them carefully, and Sirius fired a quick cleaning spell at the sooty footprints they left behind because he thought it was the kind of thing Remus would’ve done. It left the lilac carpet slightly green, but definitely cleaner. They followed the voices and ducked into a dining room, where two adults they’d never met looked up in surprise from their fruitcake. Sirius wondered for a moment if this was a terrible mistake, but James handled it beautifully—asking if they were Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, introducing them all, apologizing for the soot, lying about how their owl must have gotten lost because they’d never heard back from them, and they were just really, really hoping Remus could come. Mrs. Lupin nodded in recognition when she realized they were friends from school, and Sirius tried very hard to look clean-cut and not at all tipsy, but Mr. Lupin still looked serious and worried about it all. When he gestured to another door and said Remus was in the kitchen, Sirius took the opportunity to leave them to it. 

“I’ll go get him,” he said to no one in particular and ducked through the other doorway, following a narrow, wood-paneled hallway. There was the sound of rushing water, and then he came out into a little kitchen, bright with linoleum, where Remus was stood washing dishes. The water was on at full blast and Remus had his back to him, so Sirius just waited for a moment, watching him stand there quietly, shirt tucked in, rinsing a plate and adding it carefully to a stack drying on a ragged checkered cloth. 

“Hey Moony,” Sirius said softly. Remus jumped and turned toward him, gripping a sudsy cup.

“Hey,” he said as if in disbelief, reaching blindly behind him to turn off the sink. “What are you doing here?” Sirius leaned on the doorframe. 

“Making sure you don’t spend the whole break doing chores.” Remus looked at him with a kind of fondness that made him feel all fluttery.

“What does that mean?”

“We want you to come with us to the enchanted armor thing. It’ll be cool.”

“I just—sorry.” He gestured with the cup, sending tiny bubbles into the air. “You’re in my kitchen.”

“Yeah.” Sirius realized they were both grinning like idiots. He wondered if eye contact alone could make a person float.

“How’d you even get here?”

“Floo network.”

“ _Oh_. No wonder you’re all sooty. We haven’t used it in ages—Mom’s stopped having it serviced.” Remus furrowed his brow—an expression Sirius realized he shared with his dad. “They already said no, you know. They think it’s too close to the full moon.” Sirius shrugged.

“James’ll handle it.” Remus turned back to the sink to rinse the dripping cup, and Sirius came up behind him.

“He’s with Mom and Dad?”

“Yeah, and Peter.”

“Wow.” He laughed a bit. “They’re going to say yes to be polite, but they’re going to hate it.” Sirius rested his head on his shoulder while he rinsed another dish.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re kidnapping you.”

“And it’s _really_ educational,” they heard James say brightly from the hallway—Sirius straightened up and turned around in time to see them all come into the kitchen, Mr. Lupin casting a cleaning spell on the linoleum that Sirius realized guiltily was covered in his soot prints. 

“James, Peter—hey!” Remus said brightly. James winked at him.

“I guess you know your friends want you to come on their excursion,” Mr. Lupin said, neatly pulling a stray thread off his sweater sleeve.

“With the whole family, of course,” James interjected. Sirius winced a bit, hoping he wasn’t overplaying it—he made a sort of ‘cool it’ gesture with his hand, and James gave him a tiny nod.

“It’s a little late for my liking,” his dad continued.

“And you’d be missing The Christmas Warlock,” his mom added. “They only broadcast it once a year.”

“What do you think, Remus?” Remus dried his hands slowly on a dishtowel. Sirius realized he had a little streak of soot on his cheek and resisted the effort to wipe it off.

“I’d like to go, Dad,” he said seriously. “I don’t think it’s too late at night, or in the month.” He saw Mrs. Lupin look pained—he assumed at the reference to his upcoming transformation, and not at his disregard for The Christmas Warlock. “I can come back tonight.”

“You can stay with the Potters, if they’re comfortable with that.” 

“We’d be happy to host him,” James interjected, and Sirius compulsively made the ‘cool it’ gesture again.

“But you need to come straight home in the morning. You’ll be cutting it close.”

“Yes, Dad.” Sirius thought about the Lupins eating fruitcake off of little crystal plates in the dining room, about the couches that looked like they shouldn’t be sat on, and he thought that even though this was the politest possible version of their plan, it still was a bit of a kidnapping.

 

~~~

The enchanted armor parade was even better than Sirius thought it would be. The local tourism board had hired a whole ghost quartet that year, so the suits of armor clanked around in time with spectral strings. The whole party of Potters and friends and neighbors watched raptly in the torchlight, huddled together for warmth, but there were all kinds of different groups spaced out over the muddy fields around the ruined castle, and it made everything seem more exciting and meaningful when gasps and exclamations came from everywhere. At one point a suit seemed to bow to some invisible leader, and a little girl squeaked “He bowed to me!” to general laughter. Nothing got out of hand until the suits started filing back into their crumbling tower, and someone in the back got a bit raucous and started shooting off fireworks. Instead of stopping them, other people joined in, until the moon was obscured in showers of light. 

“Really, really educational,” Remus shouted, his face lit up blue and pink. Sirius laughed into his shoulder, and when Peter proudly showed them the flask of wassail he’d managed to sneak out, Sirius for once agreed with Remus and just shook his head no.

Mrs. Elsie insisted on blessing everyone in the Potter group before they went home, a long, droning invocation where they were all supposed to say “blessed be” at intervals. Sirius mumbled half-heartedly along, his arms draped companionably around Remus and James. Remus was predictably fascinated, but at one point he whispered, as if to himself, “If she calls on the power of the moon one more time,” and Sirius snorted into his hair.

They all chattered afterward, waiting for the portkey, and Remus wouldn’t stop thanking them all for bringing him, his eyes bright in the torchlight, most of his face obscured by the giant scarf that Mr. Potter had insisted he wear over his threadbare coat. Mr. Potter didn’t know that Remus generated heat like a furnace on nights like this. Sirius felt loopy and content, wondering what they had time to show Remus at James’ house, how late they could stay up before they got in trouble.

“Really, just thank Sirius and his obsession with you. Right, James?” Peter was saying. Sirius winced into his coat collar.

“He did spend like an hour rambling about you after dinner,” James conceded. “It was either come get you or lock him up in Azkaban—only two ways to shut him up.” Sirius curled his lip, pulling his hood up.

“You guys are bad friends.”

Remus didn’t say anything, but later, when they were all huddled around the portkey, the whole lot of them touching different parts of an old oak barrel, he whispered to Sirius, “You really wouldn’t shut up? Until you came to get me?” They were both on the ground under the shadow of someone’s tall aunt, gripping the bottom ring of the barrel.

“I guess so. Yeah,” he whispered back, feeling dumb.

“Thanks, Sirius.” And then Remus Lupin kissed him on the cheek, right there in the middle of the night on the muddy ground, and then the portkey started up and they all twisted away into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the Azkaban joke; it just happened.


	2. In which Sirius gets caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Sirius is not as slick as he thinks he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Coming out to parents; coming out accidentally

On Christmas break in seventh year, Sirius Floo powdered his way to Remus’ house every night he could, casting Muffliato before he stepped into the fireplace. Lily was staying with the Potters, and James would grab his invisibility cloak and sneak to her room as soon as Sirius faked being asleep, so it worked out well for everyone. 

“You’re crazy,” Remus said the first night he came. “What on earth are they going to do if they find you here?”

“Rethink their limited worldview?” 

For all that, though, Sirius didn’t think there was a shred of a chance he’d get caught. He evaded concerned professors and poltergeists and a caretaker who thought he was ‘onto him’ on a daily basis at school—slipping in and out of a sleepy house was nothing. So it was both one of the most frightening and most humiliating experiences of his life when he was starting up the stairs to Remus’ room one night and someone grabbed his arm in the darkness.

Sirius stifled his own gasp, instinctively yanking his hand free to cast Lumos. His body was so wired that he was expecting an actual banshee, but it was the next worst thing: a small woman he recognized as Remus’ mom. He cursed far too loudly, and she beckoned him curtly down the hallway, her mouth a thin line. He followed, heart pounding, his dim wandlight casting grotesque shadows on the walls.

Finally, they came to a room and she flipped on a light. He winced, the Lupins’ too-bright kitchen coming painfully into view. He realized she’d rounded on him with her wand—what an embarrassing way to die—but she cast everything into the hallway behind him: a few different silencing and darkness spells. Sirius whispered “Nox” and stuffed his wand warily into his pocket while Mrs. Lupin leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. She had on a thick dressing gown, her fluffy grey hair in a braid, and she looked very, very tired. None of this was good.

“I thought you were a girl,” she said sharply. Sirius considered the accusation.

The thing about him and James, the dastardly duo, was that while James had an unholy knack for quick, plausible lies, Sirius mostly just had raw confidence. James also had an implicit respect for authority figures, whereas Sirius swung back and forth from “I hate you and I’m never, ever coming back” to “if the Potters don’t like me then I have nothing.” So James on his own was still a functioning, successful troublemaker, whereas Sirius on his own did things like say to Mrs. Lupin, at 2am in her kitchen:

“Understandable. I do have good hair.” She seemed too caught in her own train of thought to react.

“It’s been you? Every night?” Sirius backed up to the electric stove so he had something to lean on.

“Yeah.”

“What are you guys doing?” 

Again, this was the time for lies, for wholesome, plausible lies. Lies like an astronomy group project or last-minute cramming for an exam—something that would fit neatly into what she already thought about her son, reinforce his good qualities. Instead, still shot through with adrenaline, he said:

“Cute boyfriend things.”

He realized later that it was a shitty thing to do, to out Remus to his mom without his permission, without him even being there, but in the moment he could hardly think straight. There was a long silence during which Mrs. Lupin just looked at him, one hand on the back of her neck, somehow looking simultaneously offended and curious, and Sirius was reminded of the way that Remus considered things, would let things roll around awhile in his head before he made a decision. Her face was small, with crow’s feet and a pointed chin, but her large green eyes were his.

“Boyfriend things meaning…romantic things?” she said at last. In almost any other scenario Sirius would’ve laughed, but instead he very earnestly met her where she was at.

“Yeah. Romantic things.”

“I see.” She seemed completely inside of herself now, thinking. She slowly opened a cabinet and pulled out a mug, then shooed him mutely away from the stove to turn on the burner under the tea kettle. Sirius’ head caught the corner of an ornamental planter as he backed up, and he grabbed it before it swung off the wall. His adrenaline was settling and he was realizing what a nightmare scenario this really was; he was too big for this house, too casually destructive for someone like Remus to trust him as much as he did. Mrs. Lupin watched him fix the planter, then walked over and pulled out another mug.

She didn’t speak again until the tea was done brewing and she was carefully handing him a steaming mug, her mouth tight. “It’s inappropriate for you to come this late into our house.” Sirius pushed his hair back with his free hand, guilty and pissed, and didn’t answer. “Not to mention foolish. You know about his condition. We’re grateful that you’ve kept his secret, but you obviously don’t know what it’s like, how dangerous it is.” Sirius set the tea down loudly on the counter. “He’s not himself sometimes; he has to be protected.” A nice word for locking Remus in the basement and throwing him chickens—a concrete _basement_ covered in chicken blood when he could be roaming the woods, friends by his side, helping him, keeping him in check. “We have to keep track of his schedule, know all his rhythms—”

“Two days,” Sirius interrupted hotly. 

“I’m sorry?”

“He’ll transform in two days.”

“But the full moon’s—”

“Full moon’s in five. But this one’s going to come early.” She looked taken aback.

“That does happen sometimes. How do you know?”

“Just do. He acts differently when it doesn’t align with the lunar cycle or whatever.” It wasn’t just that—his body temperature, his pupil size, his neediness—there were so many little signs that Sirius wasn’t going to explain to someone who used a bloody calendar to track the moon.

“’The lunar cycle or whatever’ is incredibly important to his wellbeing.” Sirius ran a hand through his hair again, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes. “And if you _are_ right,” she added, conceding a bit, “then you absolutely, under no circumstances should be here. You know he’d never forgive himself if he hurt someone. Or infected them.” She said ‘infected’ oddly, like it was a word she didn’t like but forced herself to use. She was right, though, about Remus. Sometimes it was like he was already feeling guilty, even though he’d never done it. “Heaven knows Lyall still hasn’t forgiven himself.” She reached beside Sirius and picked up his tea, offering it to him again. Sirius’ tolerance level for this kind of parental tough love was dangerously low, even though he knew it was different when it wasn’t his mom seethingly guilt-tripping him for missing family dinner or hanging out with a Muggleborn. But he remembered how very, very badly this could go for Remus, for both of them, and took the tea. 

“Remus is always talking about you, even when he tries not to. The whole crew, but especially you.” She sat down on a tall stool next to the counter and took a sip. “Do you really date all those girls?” Sirius snorted into his cup.

“A lot of them.”

“Do you—” She paused, tracing a pattern on the mug. “Do you like Remus, or do you date girls?”

“Both,” Sirius admitted, suddenly feeling like he was on weak ground.

“Why?”

“Generosity?” Her mouth compressed—that was the wrong answer. “Sorry. Um.” He was floundering—the problem was that there wasn’t really an explanation that didn’t make him look like he was just messing with Remus or something. He felt a surge of embarrassment—that he’d gotten caught, that he was here in this too-bright kitchen, having to explain himself to a woman in a fuzzy lilac dressing gown. “It’s just always been that way. I have, kind of, a reputation to maintain.” That wasn’t good enough either. How do you explain to your boyfriend’s mom, who you kind of hate, and who could also maybe have poisoned your tea, that he was always, ever the only thing that mattered? “And I kind of think it protects him. From stupid rumors and stuff.” He looked up, expecting to see her still rigid with disapproval, but instead she looked thoughtful again. 

“It probably does. We’re always worried, about any kind of rumor. The more unnoticed he can go, the better.” Sirius shook his head, but she didn’t comment on it. “He’s been so happy, all break. What a juvenile thing, sneaking around at night. I forgot about that.” She took another sip, looked him over. “I really, really thought you were a girl.” Sirius winced into his cup, torn between feeling grateful that she was even trying to process this—that she hadn’t woken everyone up shouting about how he was a stain on his ancient house—and wishing that the tea really was poisoned so that at least this conversation could end. “So this isn’t all some big misunderstanding? You and him really do like each other? Like that?” 

“We really do like each other. Like that.” Please let the tea be poisoned. Please.

“I’m going to need some time, I think. And to talk to him. We don’t need to tell Lyall yet, though. Mr. Lupin, I mean.” Sirius fervently nodded his assent—not telling Remus’ dad was definitely something he could get behind. They sat in silence for a bit. It would’ve been awkward if it weren’t so surreal, having tea in the dead of night with Remus’ mom and not being yelled at. Eventually, she lectured him again—Sirius thought that if anything could prove his love for Remus, sitting tamely through this should—and then she packed him a baggie of Jammie Dodgers to take back to the Potters’. He figured he’d be off then, but she escorted him to the living room, like he was going to make a break for it and go vandalize something or ravish her son. Even though almost no one was going to know about this, he didn’t think he could ever, ever live it down.

“Wait,” she said quietly by wandlight, right before he stepped into the fireplace. He looked back. “I don’t think you should date girls anymore.” They made eye contact for a moment. Sirius rarely used honorifics of any kind, but he said:

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~

The next morning, the bag of Jammie Dodgers on his dresser forced him to mentally rehash everything, like a talisman that proved the reality of his adventure. His cringy, cringy adventure. 

“Where’d these come from?” James asked as he snuck back in from Lily’s room, letting the invisibility cloak fold sinuously down onto the floor. “Can I have one?” Sirius groaned in his bed, too overwhelmed to play it off.

“I brought them back from hell. You can have all of them if you don’t ask about it ever, ever again.”

“Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. Two things. 
> 
> First: I know I am very blatantly breaking the decree against underage magic here. It just seems wild to me that that would be enforced on wizards doing cute little spells while they're on break in a wizarding household? I want to say it's like drinking underage: you can't go out and buy a six pack, but you can have some beer at your parents' Christmas party. And if you still don't accept that explanation...something something it was different in the 70s.
> 
> Secondly: I'm a fraud--the moon phases are not accurate to 1973 and 1976. The fact that I even looked these up and considered changing the fic to accommodate the real lunar cycle is really just one more indicator of my slow descent into insanity.
> 
> ...at least the 1973 winter solstice date is right.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this around the holidays, happy holidays! And, if not, in my house we celebrate Sirius/Remus every day of the year.


End file.
